The Faded River
The banquet hall of the Holloway estate was not a room but a cavern of suspended time, its ceiling lost in shadows so deep they seemed to possess weight. The air hung thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and beeswax, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of Maren’s throat. She sat at the long oak table, her fingers trembling slightly around the silver goblet, watching the light refract...
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